Stepping Stones
by Tweak Tweak
Summary: Luschka is an elf who grew up alongside Phobos, always desperately in love with him. She doesn't know what to do as her manipulative "lover" reaches towards tyranny and becomes more of a monster than she ever felt possible. Those of you who read the old story may be interested in the rewrite, but it may be quite different.
1. Elves and Humans

**A Rewrite of an old story I wrote. Things will be different, specifically in the way it is written. It will start by a kind of childhood fast forward before we get to current place, which will be Elyon's return. **

**Luschka is an elf who grew up alongside Phobos, always desperately in love with him. She doesn't know what to do as her manipulative "lover" reaches towards tyranny and becomes a monster. Those of you who read the old story may be interested in the rewrite, but it may be quite different.**

Our species and kingdoms were rivals as children. Elves and humans never seemed able to create a treaty that suited both races without something that would irritate the other team, so to speak, into making some brash stand off that would always set things back three steps. At only twelve years of age, I had yet to find real cause of dispute- surely it could not be so hard to create a smoother treaty? Later, I found yes, it was- but by then my family and I were being shipped off (again, so to speak- we were taken to Meridian through horse and carriage, much to my mother's displeasure) to Meridian to sign the so called final draft that would secure both races in an unsettled peace.

When we got there, people seemed unsure on how to greet us. Our lean pointed ears were a dead give away that we weren't human. I could feel their eyes on us, on our ears and different clothes, and I can't say I liked the attention. As I said, I was only twelve- I was shy, petite for an elf. The artists that painted our family always seemed to make me taller. But as I was saying, I was only twelve, and the attention made me extremely self conscious. We were to stay a few days before the treaty was officially signed. Something about learning and respecting different cultures, my mother told me. This was the reason I was taken along.

It was here of course, I would meet a young Prince Phobos. Even at fifteen, he was incredibly regal. His pure, salt white hair was like a waterfall, the front of it pulled back to reveal those small human ears. His eyes were a vibrant green, framed with thick black lashes, his cheekbones high and defined, chin pointed. He wore robes of red and black, fitted to his body. He was perfect. Even at a young age, I was attracted to that lithe, tall form. He resonated something ethereal. He was the first person I felt this way about, and as I grew, he was indeed the only one I ever felt this way about.

I saw him in the hallway. My parents were being guided to their bedroom, as was I. I'm not sure what he was doing there, to be honest. Some human loitering pastime? I never asked. I didn't say anything, I just chewed the inside of my cheek. I like to think I would have known who he was even if the maid hadn't greeted him and curtseyed. I kinda looked between them, confused. In my home, I was the royalty, and yes, I was bowed to. But I was confused- was I supposed to bow to him, since he was royalty too? Or did our species difference change this? I settled for inclining my head, closing my eyes slightly, before raising it.

He studied me with those frighteningly keen eyes, and I knew my cheeks were flushing. I wasn't prepared for that meeting.

"Ah, Prince Phobos, this is Lady Luschka" The maid's tongue stumbled over my name. I swallowed slightly and struggled to avoid his eyes.

"We should hurry on," I suggested, skin prickling in the cold. She agreed, of course, and we continued on. I could feel his eyes burning on my back as we walked away. I was bathed and redressed, the maid lacing up the back of my corset. They sat me down and even attempted to pin back my thick hair, with little avail. It was just amusing and relaxing to me- the maid was infuriated by the time my mother arrived and told her to brush it through and leave it alone. I know her fingers itched to sort it out herself, at the very least plait it back nearly, but she refused to lower herself in front of a maid. We made our way to the vast dining room for tea.

It was an awkward affair, with nobody but my parents and King and Queen talking. I picked at my food, nibbling salad and studiously ignoring the meat. A little further down from the table, Phobos was sitting there. I found my gaze constantly attracted to him.

The next day, after an unfruitful sleep, I decided to spend the day looking around. I found myself outside, kneeling in the dirt, inhaling the rose's scent. He found me there and stood behind me for a while. I was nearly oblivious- my eyes were closed, his shadow unseen. I could hear him approach, but I didn't know it was him yet. When I finally opened my eyes, he was still standing above me. I turned to look behind me, hair sweeping into my eyes.

"Lady Luschka," he said. He was charismatic, polite- his voice was primed with a warmth even if his eyes were chilled through with a piercing cold.

"Prince Phobos." I shifted on the ground.

There was no real conversation. He sat on a marble bench nearby and I returned to the roses, both of us just sitting in the sun.

He was the main reason I would later return to Meridian- spending weeks at a time among them.

Our relationship- or rather, my relationship, developed steadily. While Phobos quite clearly felt nothing towards me, he still seemed to enjoy teasing me. Slyly, he would learn the things about me that were important and use them to his advantage. My attitude towards him was always supple, utterly soft and malleable- no matter how angry or sad he could make it, he could easily take it away with just a hand on my back, fingers scraping over the lace of my corset, or a soft word in my ear. He could be so cold sometimes. He knew his mother disapproved of his behavior with me. I think he took it to his advantage. He leaned in close to my shoulder, letting his hair brush over my shoulder and smiled, eyes meeting mine, as though we had a secret. We had none. But his mother and father seemed to believe otherwise. Believe me- I wished it was otherwise.

He seemed to lead me on so often, just to spite my feelings, the feelings which seemed to grow only with the number of my age, developing to include more than simple pleasure of seeing. I wanted to touch, to taste. I wanted so much more than he would give me. I wanted to be ravaged.


	2. Kings and Queens

**As you can see, this is a quick progression of their history. I don't want this story to go on forever, so this is the fast-forwarding. I hope you guys enjoy and review, despite these initial chapters being short. **

If you're wondering if his ministrations, whether his light teasing and flirting, ever got us anywhere further, you still couldn't really say so. There was this dance he was forced to attend that he in turn belittled me into attending. I found myself his excuse not to dance with anyone, though his mother scolded him fiercely and quietly. His eyes seemed to get darker and darker every time he looked at her, brows furrowed an intense rage. He was getting angrier and angrier with his parents, like there was a dam inside of him holding back his emotions, and it was getting weaker under the onslaught.

Something was going to happen soon. I could feel it. His hand clenched in the back of my corset, nails digging into the ribbon. His hand was shaking, his green eyes on fire. He turned around, blatantly cutting off his mother. She had been about to reach for him, take his wrist and attempt to persuade him.I could see the upset in her eyes. I opened my mouth, ready to talk to her, to try say something that could make things a little better, but his hand wrenched at me. I had little choice but to let him lead me like a lamb away from her, a worried expression setting into my face. Out of the room, he continued walking, hand sliding from my back to my glove bound wrist. I could feel it crinkling and sliding off, but I didn't say anything. We sat before the fireplace in the library, he on the chair, me on the floor.

The feeling that something was going to happen kept getting stronger. My stomach was like a taunt ball of fluttering moths. Constantly my eyes flitted to him, watched as he brooded, hands curling into the armrests. My breathing quickened. The air was charged with power. He seemed to have come to a decision. His lips curled into a lewd smile, a soft approving hum passing through his lips. His hand pressed against the back of my head, sweeping down slowly, like I was a pet. His eyes seemed to glow vibrantly.

"Phobos," my voice caught in my throat. He looked at me, tilting his head. He looked half amused. His pale lips didn't deign to part and reply. I ducked my head down, biting my lip. When I glanced back, he had turned his head back to look into the fire. I looked into it, spectated the hungry flames. The urge to crawl closer was intense. He leaned close to me, brushed his head close to mine, smirked, and then stood. I watched him leave me.

I was aware his obsession with royalty was taking a turn for the worst. But like any friend or person in an very unrequited love position, the words froze in my mouth and tasted like ash on my tongue. To criticize a friend creates a strain. To criticize him creates danger. This wasn't something I could say, without taking the metaphorical (or perhaps even real) knife between the ribs. He knew me too well.

The biggest source of his utter angst came when his sister was conceived. Newly pregnant, his mother swept through the castle like a whirlwind. Whatever he and his servant boy, Cedric, had been planning, had been thrown into chaos because of her. The nursery was being redecorated, and lavishly. Only the best for her little girl. I had noticed that Phobos had not had such privilege- a nursery, yes. But certainly not at this level of...frivolous execution. People seemed nervous to talk about this with me. As I gathered, Meridian was very much a matriarchal society, where the Queen was worth more than a King. It was definite that with this young girl, Phobos was definitely not going to rule.

I prayed that nothing would happen to the child, that Phobos would not be devious or cruel and commit some heinous crime against her. I hoped the child would come to term. Surely, however, Phobos could not be so cruel? Not so as to...kill. Unborn or not, this young one meant a lot Meridian. Everywhere this pregnancy was being celebrated.

I wasn't even bleeding. I should have been. For an elf I was too old to not be bleeding. The physicians at home worried about it constantly. To my parents it was a source of anguish- was I fertile? There was no way to find out, especially since I refused to court anyone. I had dreams to replace a courtship. Dreams of a certain Prince and myself, enveloping in ways that felt like taboo...though if we ever did, it would be the ultimate taboo to my family. I would likely be disowned. At the moment, I was barely tolerated back in my own home.

Later that night, I sat curled up on the armchair in my room before the small fireplace and watched the embers die in the grate, listening to the party cries as the good citizens danced the night away. I considered the slow headache that had been building in my head and my possible lack of fertility. I considered my lack of magic. Were they connected? Or was I a simple late bloomer? My height was only just beginning to increase at fourteen and even then, I barely reached Phobos, who was still growing up and away.

On the upside, I could easily appears human with my hair carefully pinned back. It was much easier since I had had it thinned out. It tended to the humans a little more comfortable with me. I was well aware of what they were saying behind my back- after all, my ears are so much sharper. A human's whisper cannot be considered a whisper by elf standards.


	3. Books and Roses

**Oh I know. Another late chapter. I'm still trying to dig up the history to the point where I can rush it into the modern time where we meet out w.i.t.c.h characters and get into the real nitty gritty of the original rewrite. Even so, despite the repetition of a few words (rambling in this writing form seems to find tangents of its own) and some occasional boring sections, I hope you like this chapter and can see the slow character building of Lushka as she goes on. Please R and R and let me know if there's something you would like to see happen and I will see if it works well enough to slip in.**

I sat tucked away in a small room in the castle, a pretty much desolate room in which only books resided. One might call it a library of sorts, but it was too small in its collection in my opinion to call it as such. A study perhaps. Certainly it was silent and ignored. I wondered why, but I had learned not to always wonder why. I allowed the question to burn quietly in the back of my mind while I took in the books, tying them together- truly, most were non fiction, the kind that a child would learn from. But the only child here I had seen was Phobos, perhaps Cedric, and even they were older than I. I would rather be ignored than paid the tedious amount of attention that most visitors received, though circumstance had changed there now people were used to me enough to ignore me.

The sunlight filtered through the twisted branches, casting dark patterns upon the dense earthy ground. The flowers were wilting and dying. This was one of the last few summery days we would expect now that Winter was slowly curling its icy fingers around Metamoore. Still marginally warmer than my home, it was something welcomed to see the temperature drop. I was hoping for snow, crisp and clean and white. It was becoming more and more difficult to hold on to any hope- I yearned for distraction. I had heard news of my mother being pregnant. How easy would it be to simply brush my aside, a little peak of family history no one would speak about, and replace me with something new and shiny? Perfectly so, I imagine. I wonder, if this is the case, if the same condition of being powerless would also affect this child? It will likely not be the case, but all the same... my lack of power has to come from somewhere, no? Perhaps my bloodline is impure. Perhaps I am a secret child of affair. Who knows? The truth does not fall lightly among everyone's lips, least of all my were such a thing true.

Phobos's tutoring had reached beyond his teachers limits- he had surpassed said teacher. Given chance, I was offered a place in his stead to be taught history and even the theory of magic. The theory work seemed almost redundant to me at least- I had begun to accept that I would never even have magic. Certainly, I would never have the things that my younger sibling would have. I believe that allowing access to this tutor was only a means to distract me and keep me contained so to speak, within the eyes of those within the castle. Sliding away a dusty volume, I left the room to it's peace. The rose gardens beckoned me. A halfhearted plea I could not quite quash begged that Phobos be among them. A deeper plea begged that Cedric would not be with him.

I'll admit it- dangerous as he was, I longed for Phobos's company, and I was jealous. That green teethed monster had truly managed to claw it's way beneath my pale skin and into the depths of my beating heart. Every time I saw Cedric, there was something furious and contemporary in the way I looked at him and saw him. Even innocent actions seemed to irritate me, seemed to be of some devious nature. Jealousy was not something of which I was well accustomed. I had never wanted to push someone out of the way more, but how could I? He was strong, dangerous and Phobos's established right hand man, and I could never step into his shoes and do the terrifying things he was rumored to have done. I was not bad, not evil. Just a jealous elf who had no right to think this way.

He was not in the rose gardens. They were empty of any human this time of afternoon. At the very least, it ensured I could wander freely through the winding pathways, fingers grazing plush petals and the peak of sharp pointed thorns, and be blissfully alone; the only thing that seemed to be on par with Phobos's company, even if I was to be lonely while alone. I pressed a rose into the palm of my hand, curled my fingers in and pulled at the red rose head. It came away with more force then I had anticipated, crushed velvet crumpling in my fingers as I ran my thumb over it.

A soft thrill worked its way up my spine. Would he know it was me? Would he even notice this one of all the others, decapitated and left to rot in the dirt? These were the only things he cared about, these unfeeling, skin slitting plants. I could see why. Again with the jealousy. Once, twice, thrice times over again and again and these feelings would not decay like this rose. In time I wondered if I would decay. I decided for now I was too young to decay, at least in physical attributes. It seemed this dark thoughts would not rise to my skin and turn in green or ugly. Perhaps this was a normal way of thinking, or perhaps, just perhaps, this jealousy was something that would stay hidden unless I let it out.

Phobos was lovely despite the ugliness that seemed to reside in his heart. Perhaps, if something went impossibly wrong with me (and how could I be so wrong inside as to change to be as he is?) I too would retain my appearance of innocence and superficial beauty, even if to these humans, these humans who knew of my pointed ears, I was never beautiful or innocent to begin with.

Phobos despised beautiful things, according to his spiteful remarks to the artists of the Metamoore. The grotesque was it's replacement, a version of vice versa I could not acquiesce. I do not wholly believe what he says. He is a liar, after all, and that was something well known.


	4. Water and Windows

**There we go, another chapter. Phobos will be more centric in the next one, which I'm sure most of you are waiting for. Luckily, we're speeding on. I suspect in a few chapters we'll at least have advanced the pregnancy and gotten into more of Phobos's behavior, along with slowly divulging Lushka to you guys. I'm not sure how this is going, so please drop a line and review. XD The chapters will get longer when I get into the less history skimming type of chapters.**

The hot springs were a secret delight of mine. While I couldn't quite bring myself to strip bare and sink into the waters, I enjoyed to stand upon the rocky edge and trail my fingers in the warm waters. What was more, it was private, although I feared that people would come into it soon enough. This place was too well looked after, too preserved with it's smooth ledges and lit torches that burned low with light, for no one to occasionally attend it. The waters were wonderful, clear and smooth- it felt clean and purifying to the touch, and gave my fingers a slow tingling I had at first worried about. Now however, I had summarized the waters had good properties, as little light reading and inquiring had assured.

As my toes stirred the near still water into faint ripples and currents, feet slowly swinging arcs through the water, I was soon to discover that my fears were true. The light of Metamoore came to these hot springs. Queen Weira would sit within the waters, eyes quiet and tired, a thin chemise over her body. Despite the bump, her body was growing sleek around it. I could see the fragile curves of her body as the chemise clung, soaked through, breasts heavy and swollen.

This sleekness, I was to understand, was not due to starvation, but to the stress, the painful knowledge of her son's intent, that was beginning to eat into her very soul.

In spite of our initial surprise (and alas, my startled guilt) of seeing one another here, we remained quiet. She spoke little to me, nothing of what I suspected or even what she suspected, but small talk. How was I doing, was my tutor teaching me well? I answered, though I withdrew my feet from the pool. Again, this was as I thought- the waters replenished her a little, made her eyes a little less foggy and red and her skin softer. When she stood to dress into a robe she had appeared wearing, her body appeared to glow softly, warmly. I think that was one of the few times I felt at one with the Queen, that I truly saw her as beautiful. She was caring, was she not? It was simple politics and laws- males do not take the throne. She could not change anything, if my knowledge was true.

It was only after she left, that I realized that the springs now seemed cooler, darker, as though that precious calm I so enjoyed had left it. Still, the warm waters soothed as for the first time, I lifted up the hem of my dress, gathering the material in my hands well up past my thighs, as high as possible, and stepped forward at a steady pace, until the water rose to my ankles, my knees, my thighs...the water caught the edges of my dress, soaking the inner layers. With a surprising feeling of ease, I released the material. At first it floated. It quickly began to sink, however, blooming out beneath the water. My body quickly began to gather a warm soft tingling within it, tense muscles relaxing. I debated going in deeper, to seat myself at the back, where the water would rise only to my chest.

Unwittingly, my hands cupped together, dipping beneath to bring up a small well of water. I brought it up and splashed it over my face. It trickled down my cheeks, catching my lip... _Shiver. _It worked down my back like a delicious freezing sensation. The taste was not sweet, but like water boiled and cleaned from a stream. But the taste was no what had me trembling with something unknown, but the feeling it gave...like cold euphoria on my tongue. This was not to last long. The cold was not quick to disappear, and lingered within me strongly. I waded back out of the water, suddenly shivering, suddenly feeling like I was going to be sick.

I stumbled my way back from the hot springs, scrapping my arms against the walls I clung to, trying to keep myself up. I feared I had made myself sick. How could something so pure and wondrous make one feel so ill? I stopped in a hallway in the lower foundations of the castle, exhausted. I sunk to my knees, hand on my stomach.

I was lucky this part of the castle was so isolated. My head rested against the wall, eyes squeezing shut. My ears rang with a high pitched whine that made me want to curl up and whimper in protest. I was so tired. A few moments...to clear my head of all this painful noise...I could easily just...

My head dipped down, body now fully pressed against the ground. For a few moments, I saw the blackness of my closed lids before my mind switched off and went to sleep. Falling asleep on the ground, however much I could not have helped it, was not the best plan in hindsight. I woke up in incredible pain, my limbs twisted into awkward positions that caused pain with the slightest movement. Still, the sickness within my stomach was gone, and my head felt much improved by the time I had woken, even it felt swollen from being pressed against the floor.

I got up from the ground, stretching out slowly, hesitantly, to pull out my muscles, a low moan building in my chest as I caught a cramp in my leg. With no inkling to what time it was, I continued walking until I hit a window, and gazed outside. Blackened sky greeted me. Was it the deepest part of night drawing in or drawing out? I couldn't quite tell. I decided eventually that I would simply retire to my chambers, where I could quietly rest, out of the way, until it came time for my teacher of sorts to spin me a yarn of history and magic.


End file.
